Confessions of a Frog Lover

The amphibious population of Northeastern Oklahoma held me spellbound as a child. What I wouldn’t have done to actually see one of those elusive tree frogs that sang me to sleep at night. Many a toad was captured, named, and released, with the hopes that it might transform into a real prince. (I never kissed one- or at least I don’t remember doing so!)

You can only imagine my delight, then, upon discovering a bountiful hatch of the tiniest frogs all over my yard one year. They were no bigger than a dime, and could be found under every shrub, tree, and dark corner around our house. I spent every spare moment of that spring watching- and I’m sure carefully tending- the colony of tiny frogs.

One afternoon, my curiosity and delight got the best of me. A blooming shrub, covered in the most delicate white and pink, bell-shaped blossoms, caught my eye. I plucked one of the blossoms and examined its lovely shape. And immediately the irresistible opportunity presented itself: What an exquisite tutu for a tiny frog! No sooner had the vision crossed my mind than I was outfitting one unfortunate creature with its new ballet costume! I observed my little amphibious dancer with great satisfaction.

But, upon closer inspection, I realized with horror that my tiny flowered friend had perished in my hand. A deep sorrow filled my young heart, and a question forced itself forward through my grief: Was my satisfied curiosity worth the life of this little frog?

I don’t remember now if my friend was given a proper burial. But knowing my younger self, there was most likely a lovely ceremony, festooned with flowers, and a grave marker made of bark or stone.

What I am quite sure of, however, is that a new understanding began to form inside me that day. I was a part of a bigger world- a beautiful world which offered delight and adventure, but which asked for mutual respect in return. Could I take pleasure in another’s life while not caring for its well-being? I realized that day that I could not.

I am grateful for this lesson, which came at the cost of a tiny frog’s life, but which has blessed me since with a life-long reverence for the life that fills our beautiful world.

What lessons have you learned through nature?

A child’s greatest asset is their own imagination. The world around us is full of wonder and beauty which can be missed if that imagination is not given space to grow. Children instinctively know- and show- the way to access this world of beauty. They know how to stand, to look, to see, to hear, to feel, and then to enter in. 

They remember to look up and see a bird singing in a tree. They take time to close their eyes and feel a warm wind on their faces. They dare to climb a tree and see the earth from a squirrel’s eye-view. Childhood is the most precious time to expand one’s imagination. 

What can we, as parents, educators, naturalists, and members of our community do to give space for this growth? Inviting children into a natural space, and giving them tools to explore that space independently, is a simple first step. The Garden Friend opens a door into that space, and begins that delightful work that is best accomplished through the child’s imagination.